Best 1141 quotes in «historical quotes» category

Dust and dark married, creating a pillow to smother hard on our faces.

Early Trans-Atlantic Voyages "Since Columbus’ discovery of the islands in the Caribbean, the number of Spanish ships that ventured west across the Atlantic had consistently increased. For reasons of safety in numbers, the ships usually made the transit in convoys, carrying nobility, public servants and conquistadors on the larger galleons that had a crew of 180 to 200. On these ships a total of 40 to 50 passengers had their own cabins amidships. These ships carried paintings, finished furniture, fabric and, of course, gold on the return trip. The smaller vessels including the popular caravels had a crew of only 30, but carried as many people as they could fit in the cargo holds. Normally they would carry about 100 lesser public servants, soldiers, and settlers, along with farm animals and equipment, seeds, plant cuttings and diverse manufactured goods.

Eve.” He placed himself in front of her again. “We can’t have any more than today, but we can have today.” “What are you suggesting?” Eve’s pulse raced, wildfire in her veins. Marcus gripped her by the shoulders, his mouth opening ravenously on hers, and then he broke the kiss as suddenly as it had begun. “For today, at least, we could pretend we have each other, and no one else. No demands, no promises to keep.

Everybody betrayed her, so why expect otherwise? But it turned out that distrust could fool you and endanger you, just as trust could.

Every day you live is a lesson in itself.

For my death, ye waited long, Thy minds are worth reviling, With hearts brimful of woeful wrong, A treasure thou art desiring. Inherit now all I give to you, A word of admonition. The pure in heart will gain the prize, This is my decision. So if thine eyes are open, Thin ears quick to hear, You're soon to be awoken, The path, though hidden shall shine clear.

Good books, like good friends, are few and chosen; the more select, the more enjoyable." Louisa May Alcott

For with all that is grand, grander is the expansion of the mind.

Frederick's wit was impressive. When a descendant of Ghengis Khan, who was wreaking havoc in the Muslim world, wrote threateningly that the holy Roman Emperor should surrender his lands and come to his court to become one of his vassals, Frederick replied that he'd think about it and to please hold open the position of falconer.

He didn’t save women. He damned them.

Haw! Haw! Inconceivable stupidity is just what you're going to get! (Brigadier-General Henry Wilson, on being challenged in 1910 about the likelihood of a European war)

Heart...Soul...Words

He behaves the hard chaw, your man there, but he's thick as a plank for stupid.

He had an overwhelming urge to take possession of her lips, silencing any mention of another man’s name.

He knew for certain that she belonged forever in his arms, just as he knew she didn’t realize it yet.

He has been preparing his life and his poetry for just such a woman, just such intermingling of beauty and sorrow and mystery. But a woman like her will not settle into the role of helpmeet or muse; she is too adventurous, too vital, too fond of sensation. She will want to be, an ally. An equal. What can he, a poor student of poetry, offer her? Only his words.

He has had her today but he has not had her. No man ever shall.

He loves the most beautiful woman in the world. And like Sir Lancelot, he shall love her exceedingly well.

He lowered his voice. "You are a true shield-maiden; you do not turn from a scar on a man's face."I looked at him and did not lower my eyes. "My father was an ealdorman, and his brother ealdorman after him. He taught me that a scar is the badge of honour of the warrior, and this I believe."He regarded me for a long moment. "I think I am glad we did not face your father and his brother in battle," he said, "for they were of better stuff than what we have found here."In saying this, he gave my dead kinsmen much praise. I felt that praise came rarely from the Danes, and took a strange pleasure in hearing him say this. I did not speak, but he lifted his cup to me, and I again took up mine. - Sidroc the Dane to Ceridwen

Her breath caught when his erection shot to rigid. "Merciful Father, Ye're like a stallion with a mare in heat.

He poured a splash of liquid into a second cup. “Come in and warm yerself by the fire.” Ariana walked deeper into the room, toward the glow of the hearth. It’s heat enveloped her skin and eased away the chill with such expediency, she almost sighed. Connor appeared beside her with a metal cup extended. “I canna sleep often myself.” She closed her fingers around the cool surface and glanced at the dark liquid within. A sharp scent hit her nostrils. “Whisky,” Connor said. He was perfection in the firelight. Shadows etched his jaw while the light softened his face, his lips. The powerful lines of his chest were visible at the neck of his leine, as well as a dark peppering of small curling black hairs. “Whisky,” Ariana said with a forced stare at the cup instead of him. “Of course. I drink this all the time.” “Aye, I knew that about ye. When I first saw ye, I thought, ‘Now there’s a lass who can handle her whisky.’” Connor winked at her with disarming playfulness. “It’ll do ye some good. Take off the chill and settle yer thoughts.” “Why do you assume my thoughts are unsettled?” she asked. He took a swallow from his cup. “Because sleep comes easily to those without weight on their minds.” Ariana took a careful sip from her own cup, the way she’d seen men at the card tables drink. The liquid burned like sin down her throat and caught in her chest. She gritted her teeth and swallowed hard several times to keep from sputtering. Though she’d hoped to keep her reaction discreet, the grin on Connor’s face told her he saw through her guise. “It’s good.” Her voice came out in a croak and Connor laughed. It was a warm, rich sound and she found it terribly pleasing. His eyes crinkled. “Now that we’ve discovered yer love of whisky, why dinna ye tell me what’s got yer thoughts heavy?

Her fingers clutched him now, and her body writhed with a frustration he knew all too well. He wanted her. Now. Here.

Her Majesty to the theatre. The performance took place on a stage erected in the courtyard, and Her Majesty closed in one part of her veranda for the use of the guests and Court ladies. During the performance I began to feel very drowsy, and eventually fell fast asleep leaning against one of the pillars. I awoke rather suddenly to find that something had been dropped into my mouth, but on investigation I found it was nothing worse than a piece of candy, which I immediately proceeded to eat. On approaching Her Majesty, she asked me how I had enjoyed the candy, and told me not to sleep, but to have a good time like the rest. I never saw Her Majesty in better humor. She played with us just like a young girl, and one could hardly recognize in her the severe Empress Dowager we knew her to be.

Her nerves licked her palms.

He turned to look at her. "We've some talking to do." "Didn't we do that on the plane ride over here?" "I doona remember talking. I remember kissing, touching, and many orgasms, but no talking.

He wants a fifteen thousand pound settlement." "Fifteen thousand!" "He says you're a great deal of trouble." She hesitated for one startled moment before choking back a laugh. "I am." "I thought so." He leveled Drew a look. "If I pay you the fifteen thousand, do you swear to keep her?" Drew reared back his head. "Forever?" Her father scowled. "Forever." "Oh, I suppose." He gave a long-suffering sigh. "If I must." She bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from laughing outright.

He turns toward the voice. It is as though the darkness itself has spoken. But when he looks closer he can make her out - the very pale blonde hair first, gleaming in what little light there is, then the shimmering stuff of her dress.

History is indeed stranger than fiction. The twists and turns of human history are too outlandish for to be believable in any work of fiction.

He who writes is the martyr, seen through the eyes of the unassuming doll.

History is all around us and you, my lucky few, are living in some of it..

History is rich knowledge. In your travel, learn brief history of the place visited.

historical arguments; traditional apologetics breaks down here. Since man is here dealing with God and this by definition means with the invisible, impalpable, uncontrollable, only one attitude is appropriate and required : believing trust, trusting faith.

Holy fairy feathers, why does he have to be so handsome? Why couldn't a haggard old man have washed ashore?

Ho! Wise men say, 'He who hath not a good and ready memory should never meddle in telling lies.'" Drew smiled. "I have a good and ready memory.

Horeb bent over me and ran his hand down my neck, not stopping when his fingers reached my chest. I jerked backward. "What are you doing?" His eyes were black and intense. "A little taste before the wedding, Jayden?

Hot-blooded men make war. It’s up to cool-headed queens like us to make the peace.

Humans were made for love and beauty; their vulnerability was what made them feel on the deepest level and what could also crush their will to live.

I am going to be Queen of England,' I protest. 'You make it sound like a battle to the death.' 'It is a battle to the death,' she says simply. 'That is what it means to be Queen of England. You are not Melusina, rising from a fountain to easy happiness. You will not be a beautiful woman at court with nothing to do but make magic. The road you have chosen will mean that you have to spend your life scheming and fighting. Our task, as your family, is to make sure you win.

I am Calumny Spinks. Between me and the satin blue sky hangs the hempen noose. It has swung there in the faintest of breezes, waiting for me, all my life.

I am convinced that there is no host in the world today who is both knowledgeable about fine things and more sovereign in power, whom we shall adorn with the glorious folds of song.

Ien stopped her voice with more kisses, more promises of a world filled with only them.

I do no' think ye should lick me leg.

I canna let you die like Da,” he said softly. “And yet ye canna let me live,” she replied.

I didn't know then that the sweet life could be like honeysuckle smothering a barbed-wire fence.

I’d not wed you if you were the last creature in the kingdom.

If life deals you a lousy hand .... BLUFF!

If I kiss you now, I won't be able to stop.

Imagination is highly suspect. Reality is what is beautiful. But we are blind to it because it is familiar.

...If statistics are right, the Jews constitute but one percent of the human race. It suggests a nebulous dim puff of stardust lost in the blaze of the Milky way. properly, the Jew ought hardly to be heard of, but he is heard of, has always been heard of. He is as prominent on the planet as any other people, and his commercial importance is extravagantly out of proportion to the smallness of his bulk. His contributions to the world’s list of great names in literature, science, art, music, finance, medicine, and abstruse learning are also away out of proportion to the weakness of his numbers. He has made a marvelous fight in this world, in all the ages; and had done it with his hands tied behind him. He could be vain of himself, and be excused for it. “The Egyptian, the Babylonian, and the Persian rose, filled the planet with sound and splendor, then faded to dream-stuff and passed away; the Greek and the Roman followed; and made a vast noise, and they are gone; other people have sprung up and held their torch high for a time, but it burned out, and they sit in twilight now, or have vanished. The Jew saw them all, beat them all, and is now what he always was, exhibiting no decadence, no infirmities of age, no weakening of his parts, no slowing of his energies, no dulling of his alert and aggressive mind. All things are mortal but the Jew; all other forces pass, but he remains. What is the secret of his immortality?

If you call a gypsy a vagabond, I think you do him wrong, For he never goes a-travelling but he takes his home along. And the only reason a road is good, as every wanderer knows, Is just because of the homes, the homes, the homes to which it goes.